


he who loves you the wrong way

by afraidtofall



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3917011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afraidtofall/pseuds/afraidtofall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think he likes it,” Oikawa says brightly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he who loves you the wrong way

**Author's Note:**

> brought back by popular demand bc the sin club on twitter missed it so much,  
> and bc a few of my tumblr friends missed it,  
> and bc i rly love it and i won't feel shy about it

“You’re so fucking _hot_.”

Suga makes a soft sound at that, hesitant and light, the sound wrung and stressed in the small of his throat as his head leans back against Oikawa’s shoulder. It’s a whine, low pitched and frantic, self-conscious even though it shouldn’t be – Iwaizumi thinks the sight is a little unfair, a tragic angel manipulated by a devil to fall, and it’s sad that it only makes him want this more. Suga unravels slowly, unsurely, timid and hesitant even with Oikawa’s fingers bruising into his hipbones and guiding, teaching, moving in small circles which waver every time Iwaizumi’s cock hits that place inside of him, unfamiliar and foreign.

“Isn’t he, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks coy. His tone is poisonous, dripping with unapologetic sin only punctuated by the hot slide of his mouth against the curve of Suga’s neck, the nape, suckling a wet sound that makes them all grown with the mewl that follows. Flighty fingers only dig harder against his skin with a bubbly laugh, coming to rest in the dips of Suga’s ribs, squeezing light, ticklish from the way Suga quivers. “Isn’t he just so _fucking_ hot like this?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t have words, not really. Anything he could say is stolen straight from his mouth, polluted by the sultry purr of Oikawa to the point even he feels heat against his cheeks – and he’s guilty for looking. Sugawara is near perfect in all ways fully clothed, light and dainty, far too innocent like the rest of Karasuno, small suns meant to be glanced at, not admired – and Sugawara bare skinned, sex flushed, and naked is all too much to handle, pale and lanky and so incredibly _sweet_ that Iwaizumi is instantly gratified that Oikawa introduced them like this. Touching Suga’s hands, Oikawa dominating dangerously as usual, bubbly hums of sensual things in Suga’s ears and Suga sitting atop him, thighs jerking and quaking with each encouraged motion, like he’s waiting for praises, and they’re praises he deserves.

But Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything, nothing much, like usual. He’s just there to enjoy the sight. He thinks of it like a gift. It’s Oikawa giving him this pleasure, Suga giving him the sight, and he’s reeling it all in and trying to savor it, savor the way Suga feels hot and tight around him, and the gleam in Oikawa’s eye that would be terrifying if this were volleyball and not sex. It’s a look of interest, of intent, putting together pieces that could lead to this happening again and again and again.

“I think he likes it,” Oikawa says brightly. Suga only shivers in response.

Suga grinds down against Iwaizumi’s cock somewhat bravely for someone who’s never done it before, encouraged, probably. They groan together, one meek, the other harsh, and the sounds only _keep_ coming with the consistent murmuring of something utterly _filthy_ in Suga’s ear from Oikawa’s mouth. It must be unfair, to grind, to ride it out without truly being fucked, Suga balancing carefully between being overwhelmed completely and looking at Iwaizumi with such an innocent, trusting chocolate gaze pained with arousal. Iwaizumi bites his lip carefully and appraises everything.

The smooth flush of Suga’s cheeks, his chest, all the way down to his stomach and the occasional freckle along his skin, his jittery body and frantic noises he tries to muffle even with one of Oikawa’s fingers now in his mouth, crooked, wet, to open up the sound of whimpers and heavy sighs that are broken entirely. Suga frames his slender hands along Oikawa’s, mimicking unfairly, one against his own ribcage, thumb perched delicately beneath his nipple, the other around Oikawa’s wrist as he cries softly at the feel of being full, like he’s _never_ been before, new, a virgin. Iwaizumi wants to thrust, wants to wipe that filthy angelic shyness of Suga’s face until his expression is pinched with too much pleasure, wants to fuck _up_ into him repeatedly until Oikawa’s even moaning just from the sight of it – but he doesn’t, he waits patiently, waits for Suga to be okay.

He decides Suga is okay, because there’s a brave suckle of Oikawa’s middle finger that Iwaizumi wishes he could accuse of practicing, so light and gentle, pink mouth wet with saliva curling around it, dragging it further in his mouth, black eyelashes fluttering down against pink cheeks with a mixture of embarrassment, and maybe arousal. It’s the spark Iwaizumi needs to adjust the way he’s lying, sit up straighter and slide his hands beneath Suga’s thighs even if it makes him fall back and deeper into Oikawa’s hold until Suga is draped between them inelegantly, and Iwaizumi slides out if only to frantically _thrust_ back in hard enough that Suga _keens_ and twists his upper body, a sound only shared out loud because Oikawa demands it.

“Do you like Iwa-chan’s dick?” Oikawa phrases the question as he moves, lets Suga lay all the way on his back against the sheets so that he could rest beside him, kept up by one hand while the other traces Suga’s stomach, where it bends as Iwaizumi lifts him slightly, knowing this would feel so much better because it’s the same position he and Oikawa slide into out of habit. “I think you’re _super_ pretty taking Iwa-chan’s dick. I think you like it a lot,” he says gently, and finishes, “Do you like it?”

Iwaizumi hides his face against Suga’s calf and plants a messy kiss there to keep from groaning, knowing it would only fuel Oikawa, Oikawa who does not filter, Oikawa who does not hesitate or back away, who is relentless and wrathful even during moments like this. Suga gasps slightly at the words, probably horrified at the audacity of all things, probably turned on beyond belief being talked to in such a way, and it is _unconscious_ the way he clenches around Iwaizumi’s cock, milking the feeling of behind whole.

“Yes,” Suga moans softly, a skinny wrist placed against his mouth as if to hide his sinful words. Oikawa grabs his other hand, slowly slides it between Suga and Iwaizumi’s bodies, curls their fingers together and wraps them around Suga’s cock, only Suga holds shyly like he’s afraid of being seen, and Oikawa lets his thumb dance around the tip where pre-cum is leaking.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Iwaizumi whispers.

“Was that a request?” Oikawa asks too sweetly, his gaze burning with curiosity. “Do you want to _fuck_ finally?” He draws his attention back to Suga, leans forward and kisses his chest, drags his tongue over an abused nipple, and sucks it into his mouth with a sound that’s entirely _too_ noisy. Suga arches into the touch. “Ask him, Suga-chan. Ask him to fuck you.”

Suga pitches a hoarse keen and peeks open an eye. There’s a collection of tears against his eyelashes, and Iwaizumi _knows_ it’s too much all at once, having someone’s cock fully seated inside his ass while another hand plays games with his own, but that pretty mouth opens and forms the words breathlessly, because there’s something about milking innocence that beguiles them all for a moment more. “I—Iwaizumi-kun,” his voice is broken, mutilated with avarice, because it seems all those who are playful end up greedy for more and more and more. “Please can you, ah f—uck me, please? I want you to, a—ah, fuck me?”

It’s phrased so questioning, yet longing, breathed out against skin, a trembling wrist that’s bent to keep all those hitched whines, cries, mewls and whimpers from being shared. Iwaizumi wants to drag them out, wants to hear them, have them played on repeat time and time again because he doesn’t know _when_ he’ll get another chance like this, to see Sugawara’s legs open for him, the hard curve of his cock in both his hand and Oikawa’s, resting against his smooth stomach, messy and dripping with spit from Oikawa’s mouth earlier and pre-cum. How could Iwaizumi deny that accidentally sultry request, the way Suga’s mouth invisibly formed those dirty words at the encouragement of Oikawa, who rocks his hip into the sheets, still insatiable from his own fucking earlier? Iwaizumi _can’t_ , and he drags Suga’s ass against his hips sharply enough he wants to apologize for the roughness.

He pushes his hips into Suga’s, filling him, dragging his own cock in and out of the warmth that’s Suga’s _ass_ and muffles his noises against Suga’s knee – so distracted he doesn’t realize it until it’s happened that Oikawa is kissing _his_ neck now, entirely too much spit for comfort, insistent even when he turns his head and links their mouths together in a kiss that is all tongue and no affection, hard to focus with Suga’s hips jerking every time he thrusts against that _place_ inside of him, and Oikawa’s fingers tracing unfair patterns into his shoulders, into his back, the curve of his ass, tickling him and causing him to forget he wants to hide his own sounds because Suga is being so _loud_ for _him_.

“Don’t fucking _stop_ ,” Oikawa hisses in his ear, whimpers and soft cries of “yeah” in Iwaizumi’s ear, and Iwaizumi can only imagine what he’s doing pressed up against his side like he is, fingers probably fucking into his own ass because he feels too fucking empty to _function_ , Oikawa who _always_ has to have something grinding into his ass because he’s so goddamn _thirsty_ for it. “Look at him, Iwa-chan, look at his _fucking_ face! He _loves_ it. Suga-chan _loves_ your _dick_.”

Suga cries openly, tears trailing streaks down his cheeks, pleasured euphoria plastered against his freckled expression, brown eyes wide and glazed, fluttering every single time Iwaizumi snaps his hips against his, _deep_ into his with skilled thrusts, not too hard, but not too soft, something just right for Suga who doesn’t want to feel broken once he’s finished – a fine difference to Oikawa who thrives on being unable to move.

“You should ask him,” Oikawa purrs. His hand is dipping between Suga’s thighs to grab his cock and tenderly, something so foreign to Iwaizumi he almost stops and stares, but doesn’t, refrains, drag the heated flesh in a way that _is_ too much for Suga to handle, because he chokes. “You really should ask. Ask him that fucking _filthy_ question, Suga-chan.”

Suga almost covers his face. He’s not shy now, more like empowered by the encouragement, and he does ask, pretty little mouth forming words Iwaizumi usually expects from Oikawa and not someone who seems so serene and pure. “C—Can you, ahm, _cum_ in my b—butt?” Suga asks, peeking up at him, hiding from him even though it makes Oikawa moan just from the sound of it.

Iwaizumi vaguely responds, a small “yes” from so deep in his chest he’s not really sure he even said it, and grips so tightly to Suga’s hips he wants to apologize, pressing him down against the thin mattress and _slamming_ his cock inside that drags a long, wavering noise from Suga’s lips, jerks his hips upward from the force of it. He watches idly as Suga’s hands join Oikawa’s around his cock, help him jerk and touch in a way that is familiar to him, quick and hot and _light_ , so much that Oikawa sighs heavily at the sight of it. Suga cums first, with a shocked noise that makes Iwaizumi close his eyes and shiver when it’s all said and done, tears pricking the inside of his eyes because he blinks frantically even as his body sways, in a mess against his pale stomach. Iwaizumi follows next, short rapid bursts of thrusts into Suga’s _ass_ until it’s nothing but an absolute mess, wet, and fucking _gross_.

Oikawa laps up that mess unfairly, face first to clean that mess on his stomach and then between Suga’s legs that he’s holding up even though they’re shaking, embarrassingly pink and splotchy in a way that makes Iwaizumi smile almost like he’s fond, and he is fond.

“Good, or not good?” Oikawa asks, mouth full of cum and entirely indecent.

“Good,” Suga breathes out. Iwaizumi brushes his sweaty bangs off his forehead. Suga hums in response.

“Something you’d like to repeat?” Oikawa somehow manages to coax Suga onto his stomach so he can rub at his lower back comfortingly.

“Something I’d like to repeat,” Suga says, muffled by the comforter. He wiggles his fingers until Iwaizumi settles down beside him. “Did you have fun, Iwaizumi-san?”

It’s so utterly formal that Iwaizumi laughs. “I had fun.”

Oikawa pushes his face between Suga’s shoulder blades, and Iwaizumi falls asleep long after they do listening to their breathing. He’s a little spoiled, he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> pray for suga's butt @ iwaaachan . tumblr . com  
> tweet me bible verses @ brattykawa on twitter


End file.
